


A Case of Mistaken Identity

by CatherineMorgenstern



Series: TWD Smut [8]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fellatio, Negan (Walking Dead) Swears, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), Rough Sex, Vaginal Fingering, dub-con blowjob (the first time), mention of prostitution, unprotected shower sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 13:43:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13614579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatherineMorgenstern/pseuds/CatherineMorgenstern
Summary: [AU] A case of mistaken identity on a blind date (with a side of geeking out over Game of Thrones).





	A Case of Mistaken Identity

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up being way longer than I’d intended, but Negan has a tendency to do whatever the hell he wants *shrugs*.
> 
> Shoutout to my outstanding beta, [Heeley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heeley/pseuds/Heeley), who not only proofread this but also gave me the initial idea for this premise. Thank you, love.

 

As you took in your surroundings after exiting the cab, you couldn’t help but feel slightly nauseous. You were standing opposite a small bar that seemed decidedly above your paygrade. Glancing down at your phone, you checked once more if you really had the correct address. Yup, this was it.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes for a second, trying to ground yourself by taking note of the humid night air that caressed your exposed skin and the cacophony of sounds that made up the city’s backdrop; honking cars and laughter were the predominant noises tonight.

You had just moved to the city after realising that nothing held you in your hometown and that you needed a change of scenery. Finding a new job in the city had taken some time, but finally you’d been lucky enough to land a position that paid decently enough to live comfortably. A colleague of yours, whom you’d become fast friends with over the last couple of weeks, had suggested setting you up on a blind date because she knew “the perfect guy” for you. At first, you'd declined. You didn’t really feel like starting to date right off the bat, but she was nothing if not persistent. After a week of constant pestering, you’d given in, if only to make her shut up. But you’d almost backed out again when she’d told you it would be on Valentine’s Day – a first date on the “most romantic day of the year”? That sounded like disaster waiting to happen as far as you were concerned. Your friend kept telling you that you didn’t have anything to lose and that, at the very least, you wouldn’t spend the night at home, eating sad take-out dinner by your lonesome. And it wasn’t like it was a chore to be wined and dined in what looked to be a very fancy venue, judging by the impressive exterior and the rather intimidating bouncer.

Tentatively, you took a step closer, suddenly nervous that you wouldn’t be admitted, even though your friend had texted you the name under which the reservation had been made. That bouncer looked like he could snap your spine with just the use of his pinkie. You quickly looked away as he glanced in your direction. As your gaze darted around, you noticed your reflection in the window. Taking a second to admire yourself for the umpteenth time since you had put on the sinfully expensive dress which you’d bought in a spur of the moment decision, you marvelled once again at the midnight blue colour and the way it hugged your curves. It was sleeveless, the hem ending just below your knees and was made of the softest leather you’d ever touched. Never had you allowed yourself to own something this decadent. Combined with your old, but trusty wine-red snakeskin heels and purse, you thought you looked classy yet a little bit saucy; perfect to wow whatever guy you’d been set up with.

Finally having gathered enough courage to actually approach the bouncer, you told him that you had a reservation and he let you in without a fuss. That was easy, you thought. Anyone could claim they had a reservation to get past him since he hadn’t asked for the name it was under. But as you entered a tastefully decorated room that held the hostess’ stand, you realised that they wouldn’t get past this hurdle. Slowly nearing the impeccably dressed woman who, thankfully, was smiling warmly at you as though she was aware of your unease, you were about to state the surname your friend had told you when a hand took hold of your elbow. Startled, you looked up into the face of a blond man roughly your age, dressed all in black. You couldn’t help but stare for a minute at the right side of his face that was badly scarred.

“I got this, Sherry,” the man said to the hostess.

She raised her eyes at him before giving you an appraising look. “The Boss asked for her?”

Boss? Did your date own this establishment? Just who was it your friend had set you up with?

“They have a date,” he replied, a smirk forming on his lips that tugged at the scar.

Sherry gave a small shrug before addressing you. “Alright then. Just follow Dwight, please? He will bring you to your table.”

Aided by the soft, classical music, the lighting was just low enough that it created an atmosphere of intimacy without making the elegant room with its simple yet up-scale furniture feel seedy. With delight, you noted that there were no corny Valentine’s decorations. Maybe the owner or whoever was responsible for such decisions thought the ambience of this place was already romantic enough and you wholeheartedly agreed.

Dwight led you towards a booth on a raised dais at the far end that was separated from the rest of the room by tinted windows. You chanced another look at him. In this light, the shadows clinging to the valleys of his scars made them stand out even more sharply and you wondered what on earth could have cause that kind of damage. He must have felt you staring at him because he met your eyes before letting his gaze trail suggestively down your body as an ugly leer formed on his thin lips. You were surprised at that blatant gesture and opened your mouth to chastise him for acting so disrespectfully when you almost stumbled over the first step that led up to the dais.

“Your date for the evening, Boss,” said Dwight, letting go of your elbow as he stepped back while taking the purse from your hand. You held on, scowling at him, but he only scoffed derisively and said, “You’ll get it back in a second.”

Reluctantly, you let him take the purse and saw him hand it over to a tall, blonde woman, who proceeded to rummage through it none too carefully.

“Thanks a lot, Dwighty-boy. You can leave now.”

You’d been bestowing your best glare on Dwight, whom you instantly disliked, when that voice washed over you like a bodily caress; dark and gravelly with the barest hint of a southern accent. As the man leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table, you were struck by how utterly gorgeous he was. Full, black hair with greying sides that was stylishly swept back, a carefully groomed beard streaked with silver that somehow accented his sharp jawline, making his tan skin glow and thin lips that were drawn into an amused smirk at your obvious perusal. You noted that he had hazel eyes, but that his shirt brought the sparkling green in them to the forefront.

How on earth could your friend have ever thought he might be a good fit for you? This vision of a man was so far out of your league, you wanted to abruptly turn on your heel and run home to sob pathetically into a pint of ice cream.

As you met his gaze, he positively ravished you with his eyes, causing a fierce blush to appear high on your cheekbones. His gaze seemed to burn right through your dress as he slowly dragged it over your form. You felt as though you couldn’t have moved if you’d wanted to.

“Hot damn, baby,” he drawled, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. ”Look. At. You.”

Admittedly, you had no idea how to respond to such blatant interest.

“Uhm,” you started, swallowing thickly before ending with a lame, little wave. “Hi?”

He laughed; a warm, rich sound that made you want to join in. “Aren’t you fuckin’ adorable? Have a fuckin’ seat, doll.”

You made to sit opposite him but he grabbed your arm and gently pulled you down next to him, overlooking the rest of the bar

“Can’t have you that far away, now can I?” he purred and there was something in his tone – some kind of promise - that both excited and intimidated you. “Nope. That wouldn’t do. Not. At. All.”

He dragged his hand over his beard as his gaze dropped to your lap, sucking his breath in through his teeth. Confused, you followed his line of sight and almost jumped out of your skin when you felt his hand on your leg. The slit in your dress, which you’d honestly almost forgotten about since it wasn’t obvious when standing or even walking, had exposed most of your upper thigh as you’d sat down. He sinuously trailed his index finger up the bared skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. Reflexively, you grabbed his wrist, stopping him from sliding any higher.

“Manners don’t seem to be your strong suit. Is this how you treat all your dates?” you asked tersely.

Cocking an eyebrow at you, he drawled, “Playin’ hard to get, huh?”  
  
You frowned at him, making him grin in response before he shrugged and said, “Alrighty. Suit yourself, darlin’. I’ll savour the chase. Yes, I will.”

“Excuse you? I think I better leave,” you huffed indignantly, standing up only to be pulled back with a sharp tug.

“Don’t be like that, babygirl. I’ll behave, I fuckin’ promise.”

You pursed your lips, crossing your arms over your chest. Just then the woman gave your purse back to you.

“Found anything interesting, Arat?” he inquired without taking his eyes off of you.

“No. The usual stuff, plus a huge tome,” Arat replied. “Unless she plans on beating you unconscious with it, she’s all clear.”

“A huge fuckin’ tome?” he asked, looking at you with obvious amusement. “Did you think you would have time for reading tonight, darlin’?”

You gave him the dirtiest look you could muster. “I never leave the house without a book.”

“That so? What is it, the goddamn Kama Sutra?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, would you?” you said, sounding exasperated.

“No can do.”

Sighing, you rolled your eyes. “It’s  _A Dance With Dragons_.”

“From  _A Song of Ice and Fire_?” he asked, perking up as he draped his arm over the back of your chair, leaning closer. A waft of his cologne hit you; something dark and heavy that made you want to bury your nose against the crook of his neck and inhale.

Shaking those thoughts off, you were, admittedly, a little perplexed that he recognised the series. “You read George R.R. Martin?”

“No, haven’t read any of the books, but I watch the fuckin’ show and it is fuckin’ awesome,” he said.

“The books are way better.”

“Oh, I see. You’re one of those fuckin’ book snobs,” he said teasingly.

“Very much so,” you replied as haughtily as possible before adding with a shrug, “but I like the show, too.”

He shook his finger at you playfully. “Don’t you dare spoil anything for me.”

“Hmmm. If you behave, I won’t.”

That earned you a wide grin. “Deal.”

A waitress arrived, politely interrupting your light-hearted banter. “What may I get you?”

He turned towards you with a raised eyebrow. “Gin Martini, please,” you ordered.

As she nodded and turned to your date to engage in a bit of friendly banter, you took a look at the other guests. Unsurprisingly, it was dominated by couples deep in conversation or gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes. Towards the middle of the room sat a man all by himself. Even from this distance you could tell that he was frustrated as he paid his waiter and got up in a huff. Someone has been stood up, you thought sympathetically, and on Valentine’s Day no less. That sucks.

“The usual for you, Negan?” she asked with a fond smile.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he replied with a wink in her direction.

Negan. What an unusual first name, you thought.

“So who’s your favourite character?”

“Hmmm?”

“From  _Game of Thrones_?” he clarified.

“Oh!  _Daenerys_ ,” you answered at once.

Negan chuckled. “’Course she is.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Every female on the planet seems to favour  _Dany Targaryen_  or  _Arya Stark_.”

“I can’t stand  _Arya_.”

“That so?”

“Yeah. Who is your favourite then?”

He tapped his lips with his index finger while pondering. “I think I would have to say  _Tyrion_  or  _Littlefinger_.”

“ _Tyrion_  is a really cool character. My perfect ending would have  _Dany_  sit the Iron Throne, but I’d be more than okay with  _Tyrion_ , though I do want  _Sansa_  to be Queen in the North. And  _Petyr_  is just awesome; such an opportunist.”

“ _Sansa_  is becoming a force to be reckoned with that’s for sure. Wouldn’t have guessed that at the beginning. I gotta say, I do hope  _Dany_  will turn mad like her dear old dad at some point.”

“What? No!”

Negan laughed. “Don’t fuckin’ shoot the messenger, baby. Think about it.  _Targaryens_  are known to be a little cuckoo, aren’t they?”

“Not  _Daenerys_! There’s no indication she might be losing it,” you said indignantly.

“Oh, yes there is. Remember those visions she had in the  _House of the Undying_?”

“Yeah, but the  _Undying_  are warlocks. Some of those visions might’ve been prophetic, but not because her mind is compromised and  _Targaryens_  are known to have dragon dreams anyway.”

“Fair enough –“

The waitress came back to set down your drinks. You thanked her and Negan gave her a brilliant smile before he continued, “I still think it would be awesome if she went completely bonkers. Her temper and impulsiveness in addition to the lack of a moral compass would make shit very fucking interesting.”

“You know what I think would be cool?”

“You gonna make me fuckin’ guess, darlin’?” he said raising his glass to yours.

“What if  _Dany_  was turned into a  _White Walker_? She’d make the perfect villain. Everyone thinks Fire and Ice is referencing the Houses  _Stark_  and  _Targaryen_  in general or  _Jon Snow_  in particular, but what if she ended up combining fire and ice. A  _White Walker_  that couldn’t be killed by fire …”

He whistled. “That would be quite a twist. I like it,” he said as he wound a strand of your hair around his finger and tugged on it. “So you like opportunists, huh?”

The intense way he was looking at you made your stomach flutter. “Pardon?”

“You said you liked  _Baelish_  because he’s an opportunist,” Negan drawled, letting the hand that had been resting at the back of your chair glide up your arm in a slow caress. When he reached your shoulder, he slid his index finger under the strap of your dress, stroking back and forth in a maddeningly slow movement that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Right,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink to moisten your suddenly dry mouth.

Leaning in so that his lips touched the shell of your ear, he murmured, “I’m a fucking opportunist, too. You like me as well, babygirl?”

“Uhm,” you breathed shakily, blushing furiously. When his tongue darted out to leave a wet stripe behind your ear, you let out a surprised squeak.

The sensation made things low in your stomach clench. God damn him. Negan’s behaviour was unacceptable – you’d just met the man – but you were getting seriously turned on at the same time. You shifted in your seat to face him, scooting away a bit to do so. His hand grabbed your bare shoulder, hindering you from putting too much distance between the two of you.

Setting down your drink, you looked up at him from under your lashes. “I don’t know yet.”

“No?” he purred, maintaining eye-contact as he took hold of your chin with his free hand. “Want me to persuade you?”

Negan slowly inched closer until you could feel his breath on your lips. You felt dazed and unable to protest. At the first brush of his lips on yours, your eyes fluttered shut.

A loud cough interrupted the moment, making you flinch. You backed away from Negan as your eyes flew open. The obvious annoyance on his face was aimed at a tall man who had appeared by his side. Negan ran his thumb over your bottom lip, squeezing your chin once before turning towards the man who was clad in a charcoal suit. But he kept his arm around you, his hand having travelled to cup the back of your neck.

“Simon, what is it? I hope you have a good fucking reason to interrupt us.”

The warning in Negan’s voice was unmistakable, but while Simon did shuffle from one foot to the other, you could also see a hint of amusement in his dark eyes and the twitch of his ridiculously ostentatious moustache.

“Sorry to bother you, Boss, but –“

Simon stopped short, his eyes darting to you before settling back on Negan’s with a questioning raise of his eyebrows. Negan gave a small nod to indicate it was fine to speak in front of you, but leaned a bit towards Simon nonetheless. As he did so, something glinted under his arm. On the side that was farthest from you, a gun was hidden under Negan’s jacket. You frowned. Peeking at Simon, you saw that he, too, was carrying a gun.

Why would they come armed to an up-scale bar in one of the best neighbourhoods in the city? Who were these people?

“Sherry says there’s a woman in the foyer she’s never seen before, who’s making a fuss, claiming she’s got an appointment with you tonight?” Simon explained in a low voice. “She’s wondering whether she should let Dwight throw her out or send her through.”

“My date’s already here. While I appreciate the creativity, whoever she is, she ain’t got a fuckin’ appointment with me. Tell her nice try and make sure the lady is escorted out. And now piss off.”

“Will do, Boss.”

“Now where were we, darlin’?” Negan asked, turning back towards you as he changed his grip so that his thumb was rubbing small circles on your pulse point. You rubbed your thighs together in response as your breath hitched. “I think I was about to kiss the shit out of you. Ain’t that right, huh?”

He didn’t give you time to form a coherent sentence before his lips were on yours, your eyes closing instinctively. You’d almost expected Negan to kiss you harshly – even wanted him to if you were being honest – but his movements were slow and sure; thorough. After he swiped his tongue across the seam of your lips, he bit your bottom lip playfully, asking you wordlessly to give him access. You were all too willing to comply. Negan tilted your head as his free hand once again seized your chin, giving him full control. His tongue slid into your mouth, tangling with yours and you couldn’t suppress the sighing moan that escaped you at the taste of him. Whiskey and mint. You shivered and grabbed the lapels of his jacket to pull him closer, somehow deepening the kiss even further.

Laughing, he pulled back from you. “What do you say we take this somewhere more private before it gets out of hand, huh?”

You were completely out of breath and wanted nothing more than for him to ravish you right then and there. So you nodded eagerly instead of a verbal answer, causing a victorious smirk to form on his lips.

Negan took your hand to pull you up before slinging his arm over your shoulders, drawing you flush against his side, as he led you towards a back door that allowed you to exit the bar without having to draw any attention from the other guests. Your knees were a little weak from the arousal still thrumming through your veins and it took a considerable amount of self-control to keep your hands to yourself. Dimly, you were aware of how uncharacteristic this was for you - to go home with a guy on the first date - but you found that you didn’t much care. As Dwight held open the door of a sleek, black limousine, you felt Negan’s hand slide down your side before briefly grabbing your bum, indicating for you to get inside.  

Giggling, you slid onto a cold leather seat, sending a chill through your overheated body. He reached out to pull you into a heated kiss by the back of your neck the second the door closed; all clashing teeth and wet tongues. There was nothing slow about this one and it made your head spin.

This time when he ran his hand from your knee to your upper thigh, following the slit in your dress, you didn’t even try to protest, whimpering into his mouth instead. His palm and fingers were calloused and provided the most tantalising friction against your already sensitive skin. As he slipped it under your dress and to the back of your thigh, your stomach clenched wantonly before Negan pulled you onto his lap to straddle him. It was a little awkward and you bumped heads as he did so, making both of you grin against each other’s lips, but then he slid down on the seat while simultaneously bunching your dress up around your hips and pulling you flush against his groin. Suddenly, all awkwardness was gone.

Your breath hitched as your panty-covered cunt came into contact with the very hard bulge in his trousers. Instinctively, you rolled your hips, making you moan while eliciting a guttural groan from Negan that raised the hairs at the back of your neck.

“That’s it, babygirl,” he breathed, “ride me.”

A shiver raced up your spine as you did as you were told, starting a slow rhythm with your hips that made both of you pant with need. You adjusted your position so that your clit was stimulated with every grind. If you hadn’t been dripping wet before, you sure as hell were now. You could hardly wait to feel him inside you, the thought alone making you arch your back. Negan wound his hand in your hair, tilting your head back and to the side so that he could suck and bite at your exposed neck. He was leaving marks, you knew.

The drive was a blur of heated breaths and the promise of mind-blowing pleasure. You couldn’t have said how long it took to get from the bar to his place even if you’d wanted to. It could have been minutes or hours for all you cared.

Somehow, Negan managed to disentangle you from him and pull down your dress far enough that it wasn’t quite so indecent anymore just before a smirking Dwight opened the door. Blushing furiously, you took the cue to get out. You were in a parking garage, you thought before Negan’s hand settled on your hip possessively, guiding you towards an elevator. Dwight pushed the button, but didn’t get in with you when it arrived.

Negan was back on you before the doors had even closed, practically slamming you against the wall. His hands ran greedily up your inner thighs, once again pushing your dress up as he did so. He took hold of your panties and rolled them down your hips, steadying you as you stepped out of them before he put them in his pocket. The fact that you were now going commando made you quiver in anticipation.

“Look how wet you are, darlin’,” he said. “Is that all for me? Of course it fuckin’ is. Don’t you worry, baby, Negan’s gonna take real good care of you in a minute.”

He hoisted you up to wrap your legs around his waist and you gasped as you were pressed against him, the sensation that much more intense now that there was one less item of clothing between you. One arm encircled your waist while the other hand cupped your bare cunt, causing you to shiver noticeably.

“You like that, huh?” he murmured as his thumb started to rub slow circles around your clit and his fingers brushed over your entrance, gathering wetness. “Let’s see how you like this. I bet it feels even better.”

With that he pushed two fingers into you, making you arch your back and moan. Slowly, he started to move in and out of your clenching heat, allowing you to somewhat get used to the stretch before adding another finger. You were clawing at his shoulders while meeting him every time he entered, whimpering at the squelching sound the action made. He’d kept his thumb on your clit and you were soon lost in pleasure.

“You’re all wet and ready for me, huh? You want the real thing, babygirl?”

He twisted his fingers, eliciting a strangled gasp while making you clench almost painfully around him as his knuckles grazed your G-spot.

“Yeah, of course you do. So fuckin’ desperate for my big dick. You’ll get it in a second, we’re almost there.”

The ping of the elevator announcing you’ve arrived at your destination almost went unnoticed by you. An embarrassing whine left your lips when he pulled his fingers out of you.

“So greedy!” he said with a laugh as he returned you to your feet before licking his fingers clean. The sight made you tremble. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Negan grabbed your waist and threw you over his shoulder, slapping your bum, completely taking you off guard as he crossed the lavishly decorated penthouse. You only had time to notice that it was one big room that had an open kitchen at one end before he stepped into a dark room, setting you down and turning you around to face a huge bed. Your ragged breathing seemed abnormally loud in the stillness and you were startled when he unzipped the back of your dress, taking it off for you before he gave you a push that caused you to tumble onto the silky sheets.

Moonlight falling through the floor-length windows that took up a whole wall was the only illumination as he stripped out of his suit in a deliberately slow manner, watching you like a hawk.

“Get naked,” he commanded with a predatory glint in his dark eyes.

Distracted by the contours of his body, you barely noticed that he set his gun down on the bedside table before opening the drawer to take out a condom as you unhooked your strapless bra and kicked off your heels.

Your nipples were hard peaks. Negan obviously noticed as his eyes were locked onto your chest with a wide grin.

“Excited, are we?” he taunted as he stepped closer, coming to a stop beside your head before tearing open the foil without putting it on. Handing it to you, he said, “I want you to use your mouth.”

Your eyes widened. Briefly, you debated telling him that you’d never tried that before and only had a rough idea on how to accomplish the task, but one look into his blown pupils made you discard that notion as you didn’t want to spoil the mood. Gingerly, you kneeled on the floor and placed the condom on his bulbous cockhead that was already leaking pre-cum, unrolling it the tiniest bit before sealing your mouth around his tip so that the rest of the coiled condom rested against the seam of your lips. The faint taste and scent of latex was unpleasant but thankfully not overpowering. As you started to move forward, you placed your hands on his thighs to steady yourself.

“Careful with your fuckin’ teeth,” Negan hissed, grabbing the back of your head. “You don’t wanna rip it, babygirl. Keep going. You fuckin’ know what to do.”

Blushing in response, you tried your hardest to keep your teeth covered by your lips as you swallowed his length inch by inch, unrolling the slippery condom in the process as you took care to keep a tight seal. His girth was tough to accommodate, hurting the corners of your mouth. You’d guessed he wasn’t small when you were rubbing up against his bulge, but you had no idea he’d be this thick. He hit the back of your throat and you gagged, instinctively wanting to draw back, but the hand in your hair kept you where you are, making you choke on his dick.

“Easy. Still got a fuckin’ gag reflex, huh? Didn’t expect that, but I like it,” he said almost breathlessly. “Breathe through your nose and keep the fuck going.”

But you couldn’t push past your gag reflex by yourself. You dug your nails into his skin as he took the initiative and started to feed his cock into your spasming throat.

“C’mon,” he groaned, pushing forward while pulling your head closer as he finally hilted himself. Negan kept you flush against him for a few seconds, enjoying the feeling of you convulsing around him.

“There you go. That’s a good girl.” He had the audacity to pat you on the head for a job well done before he used your hair to pull you slowly off his cock.

Coughing, you greedily gulped in air, torn between wanting to punch the smug bastard for dominating you like that and have him cradle you in his arms.

“Wasn’t that fuckin’ hard, now was it? Well, I am very hard indeed, but you know what I meant,” he said, a smirk quirking up the corner of his lips.

“I have half a mind to leave after that douchy move,” you threatened accusingly. Annoyed, you realised that you still very much wanted to jump him regardless of his treatment.

The smirk turned into a sharp grin. “No, you don’t. You like playin’ rough, don’t you?” he purred. “Get on the bed. You’ve made me wait long enough.”

You climbed onto the bed backwards, never taking your eyes off of him. Negan watched you for a little while, drinking you in, before he came crawling after you. Something about his movement reminded you of a panther stalking its prey and you licked your lips in response to that thought. His gaze zeroed in on your tongue and his lips drew back in what you could only describe as a snarl.

When he had you where he wanted you, he grabbed your hip to keep you in place as he settled between your thighs. Immediately, you wrapped your legs around his hips, gasping when you felt the blunt tip of his shaft against your entrance. You didn’t know what you expected but Negan didn’t give you any warning before he pushed in, forcing himself into your cunt in a merciless thrust that was agonisingly slow but steady.

“How are you this fuckin’ tight?” he growled through clenched teeth.

His girth stretched you uncomfortably despite your wetness and you arched your back in response, fisting the bed sheets as sweat beaded on your brow until he stopped moving. The pause allowed you to get used to him, but when he pulled out only to harshly thrust back in, sliding deeper as he did so, you realised that he hadn’t been fully seated inside you.

Negan swore under his breath. “Goddamnit, doll,” he panted before huffing out a raspy laugh. “Haven’t had a dick this fuckin’ big yet, huh? Can’t say I’m surprised.”

He tangled a hand into the fine hair at the nape of your neck and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your lips that made you relax into him. At the same time, he slid his other arm under you to lift your lower body in such a way that it allowed him to bottom out with a particularly sharp roll of his hips. You bit his tongue in response before you moaned as he started to move in earnest with deep strokes that left you unable to focus on anything but his cock sliding in and out of your quivering pussy.

Before long, the constant friction caused you to become even wetter, making it easier for Negan to move and his pace picked up accordingly. You clung to him as he brutally rutted into you, scratching his back in your desperation for him to make you cum. The ragged moans and grunts he breathed into your ear served to turn you on even more. You would have been happy to meet each and every cruel snap of his hips, but he didn’t give you enough space to do so. Negan’s weight was pushing you down as he kept pounding you into the mattress. You didn’t doubt that he could be a more than generous lover if he wanted to, but the ferocious fucking he was giving you right now made it clear that you were a toy being used for his pleasure. Somehow that thought and the musky scent of sex permeating the room made you moan, causing familiar tingles to start at the base of your spine.

Licking a stripe up the bulging vein in his neck, tasting his salty sweat in the process, you sucked a kiss onto his pulse point before moving up to nip his jaw. You felt more than heard his rumbling laugh before Negan returned the favour by biting the crook of your neck in gentle reprimand. A high-pitched moan escaped you as he slid his hand out of your hair and started rubbing your clit instead.

“You’re so fuckin’ responsive, babygirl. No one’s ever made you mewl like a kitten before? Huh?” His words were punctuated by sharp jabs of his hips, but his rhythm was starting to stutter as he neared his climax.

The sound of damp skin hitting skin had you clawing at his back, biting his collarbone, fisting his hair – anything to spur him on as you fought for your approaching orgasm. Just a little more friction was all you needed, you could feel it hovering just out of reach. Negan grabbed your thighs from around his waist and threw them over his shoulders. The change in position was what did it for him, apparently, judging by his frantic pumps just before he threw his head back, grunting in completion. With his eyes closed, he pinched your clit while still thrusting into you, toppling you over the edge as well. You screamed hoarsely as fire rushed through your veins, making your back arch off the bed into his chest as your pussy clenched around Negan’s cock, milking him for all he was worth.

He let go of your pulsing nub and stroked your calves instead before gently lowering your legs while he leant down to you, giving you a sloppy kiss that you eagerly returned. You carded your fingers through his sweat-soaked hair as you deepened the kiss, slowly coming down from your high.

Making a small noise in the back of your throat, you weakly protested as he pulled out of you. Stretching languidly, like a cat taking an afternoon nap, you watched him as he padded over to the bathroom door that was situated between the windows and the bed. Negan was back before you knew it, tugging the crumpled bedsheet out from under you after having disposed of the used condom.

“C’mere, darlin’,” he murmured as he crawled back into bed next to you. You yawned, making him laugh. “Wore you out, did I?”

“No need to be so smug about it, you sound just as tired,” you replied sleepily, snuggling into his side.

He countered that remark with something, but you didn’t hear what it was as you fell into an exhausted sleep the minute you got comfortable with your face pressed against the side of his neck.

* * *

 

For a second, you were disoriented when you woke up in a bedroom flooded with early morning light, but the memories of how you spent last night came back easily. Smiling, you stretched, feeling the burn in your muscles before sitting up. You were alone but a low murmur of voices drifted in through the slightly open door.

Briefly, you considered gathering the sheet into a makeshift dress, but as you got out of bed you spotted Negan’s green shirt and grabbed that instead. After you put it on, you grabbed your purse and shuffled to the bathroom you’d seen him disappear into last night. You winced as you realised just how sore you were and instantly wrinkled your nose when you thought of how satisfied Negan would be with himself if he knew. Shivering from the cold tiles under your bare feet, you walked to the sink and took a look in the mirror. Your eyeliner was smudged, your lips were decidedly swollen, your hair looked like a bird’s nest and there were bite marks and hickeys littering your neck.

Taking make-up wipes out of your purse – thank god you always carried these – you cleaned your face before borrowing Negan’s comb to tame your wild mane. Your mouth tasted like something awful but you hesitated to go through his things in search of a toothbrush before deciding that subjecting him to your morning breath would be even worse. Luckily, you found a bunch stashed into the cupboard under the sink. You arched an eyebrow at that. Seems like Negan made a habit out of taking women home. Feeling much better after getting cleaned up, you padded towards the door that you knew led to the rest of the suite.

Tentatively, you stepped out of the bedroom to be met with Negan casually leaning against a kitchen counter, holding a mug of what you assumed to be coffee while deep in conversation with Simon.

They both looked up, having noticed you almost immediately. You raised an eyebrow at their obvious alertness, remembering that they’d both been armed last night. Once again, you wondered what the reason for that was. Negan smirked at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners while Simon couldn’t quite hide the grin that spread across his face at your choice of clothing.

“Mornin’, babygirl,” Negan drawled.

“Morning,” you mumbled uncertainly.

“That’s your fuckin’ cue to leave, Simon,” he told the other man, who nodded once in your direction before strolling towards the elevator. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Coffee?”

“Yes, please!”

You took in his appearance as he walked around the counter. While he poured you a mug of steaming coffee, you sat down on a barstool at the kitchen counter and studied him; he was wearing a white t-shirt and dark grey jeans but he was barefoot. You tore your gaze away from him just before he turned around. Now that the room was bathed in light, you noticed how sleek and shiny his furniture was; all black, grey and chrome. It suited Negan, you thought.

Inhaling the rich aroma after taking the mug from him, you let out an involuntary sigh before he asked, “Milk? Sugar?”

“Just milk, please. I stole a toothbrush from your bathroom and borrowed your comb.”

He chuckled. “That’s alright. Did you sleep well?”

“Like a rock,” you said with a small laugh.

Predictably, the grin that formed on his lips was smug beyond belief. You playfully rolled your eyes at him. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a sex god. We got it.”

That made him laugh. “Thank you, thank you,” he said with a mocking bow in your direction. “Comin’ from you, I take that as a big fuckin’ compliment indeed.”

“Hmmm, whatever.”

Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a wad of bills and without looking at you, asked, “So, what do I owe you, doll?”

“Pardon?”

He looked up with raised eyebrows. “For last night. What’s your usual rate?”

“My usual –“ you asked, confused before it hit you. “YOU THOUGHT I WAS A HOOKER?”

If you hadn’t been so dumbfounded and weren’t screeching at the top of your lungs, you might have savoured his truly astonished expression. “Aren’t you?”

“The hell are you talking about? Of course not!” you exclaimed incredulously while gripping the coffee mug so hard that your fingertips turned white.

He paused for a second, speechless, before letting out an uproarious laugh. “Well shit! Fuck me, doll. Oh, wait! You already did.”

“Stop laughing, you idiot, this isn’t funny!”

“It’s a little funny,” he said through his laughter. “Scratch that, it’s fuckin’ hilarious!”

“Why would you even think that – that I’m --?”

“Because I had booked an escort, baby, and when Dwight brought you in I just assumed he’d checked your fuckin’ identity,” he explained, wiping a hand over his beard. “Gotta teach Dwighty-boy to do his job better, I guess.”

Something threatening crept into his voice at the last sentence and you shivered.

Piercing hazel eyes settled on yours. “It does all make sense now,” he drawled with an infuriating smirk before huffing out a laugh. “You certainly gave me enough clues that you weren’t a fuckin’ pro. Should’ve known.”

Blushing, you frowned at him. “Do shut up, will you?”

“Why did you let me fuck the ever-loving shit outta you like that?”

“Don’t try to turn this around on me!” you warned, letting go of the mug to shake a finger at him. “I’m not the one at fault here.”

“I would’ve never been that fuckin’ rough or demanding with you if I hadn’t thought you knew what you’d gotten yourself into and that you were being paid to fulfil my every fuckin’ wish.” Negan swiped his tongue over his bottom lip. “Not that I’m complainin’.”

Covering your face with your hands, you pleaded, “Please, shoot me now.”

“How did you even end up at my table?” he asked. “Or my bar. All alone, dressed the way you were.”

“My friend had set me up on a blind date and Dwight intercepted me before I could mention the name the reservation had been made under. What he said sounded like you were my date. I was nervous, okay? That part was a bit of a blur.”

“So you basically stood up some poor fucker on fuckin’ Valentine’s Day?”

You fixed him with a glare. “I’d say it’s safe to say that’s your fault. Or Dwight’s.”

“Must’ve been my lucky night.”

Despite your embarrassment, you smiled bashfully at that. “You know, when we were ordering, I saw a guy stomping off who’d obviously been stood up. I bet that was my real date.”

“Hmmm.” Negan stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Simon did tell me about a woman giving Sherry some trouble because she kept insisting she had a fuckin’ appointment with me. That must’ve been the actual escort.”

You huffed. “I cannot believe you thought I was a prostitute.”

“Escort,” he said, grinning, as he walked over to you.

“Same difference!”

“Nuh-uh, being a high-class escort pays way better.”

You lightly slapped his chest a few times.

“Just for the record, babygirl, I would’ve offered you a tip,” he remarked, grabbing your wrists. “A very fuckin’ generous one at that.”

Pursing your lips, you looked up at him. “So glad you were satisfied with my services,” you said dryly.

“Oh, I was,” he purred. “But I do feel bad for having been so fuckin’ rough with you.” He cupped your face. “Let me make it up to you, hmmm?”

You arched an eyebrow at him.

He smiled. “How about a nice, hot shower?”

“Are you saying I smell?”

“Nah, I’m saying I want to show you how nice I can be.”

You chuckled. “You just want to get me naked again.”

“Damn straight. Not that you don’t look fuckin’ fantastic in my shirt, darlin’, but I like you even better without it,” he murmured before lifting you into his arms, bridal style.

Slinging your arms around his neck, you teased, “I haven’t finished my coffee.”

“I’ll make you a fresh pot afterwards,” he promised while carrying you across the room.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you replied as he stepped into the bathroom. “Is there some kind of rule that you don’t let women walk towards your bedroom?”

“What?”

“You threw me over your shoulder last night and now this.”

“You complainin’?” he asked and made a gesture as though he was gonna drop you.

“No!” you squeaked, hanging tighter onto his neck. “No complaints here.”

“Good.” Negan sat you down on the bathroom counter and turned to switch the water on in the luxurious walk-in shower, adjusting the temperature after doing so.

As the bathroom slowly filled with steam, he came back towards you, stepped between your thighs and pulled the shirt over your head before he leant down to kiss you. You hummed into his mouth, chasing the taste of coffee. Running your hands over his shoulders and down his chest, you grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and returned the favour. Licking your lips, you pulled his head back down to yours while you trailed your fingers lightly down his treasure trail to unbutton and unzip him. Negan forced his tongue into your mouth as you jerked his jeans and boxers impatiently down his hips.

Grabbing the back of your thighs, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he lifted you into his arms without breaking the languorous kiss. He approached the shower with you but stopped just outside.

“See if the temperature’s alright for you, baby,” he murmured, nibbling on your earlobe.

“It’s perfect.”

Negan stepped into the gloriously hot stream of water with you and you breathed a happy sigh against his neck as the warmth seeped into your bones, soothing your aching muscles.

“See? It’s a pretty fuckin’ awesome idea, isn’t it?” he said laughing in response to the contented noise you’d made.

“Hmmm.”

“Don’t fall asleep on me, darlin’, I’m not done with you.”

You pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw before letting your tongue dart out to lick up behind his ear. A shudder went through him, making you smile smugly. Somehow you had the feeling that he was so used to taking the reins not many partners managed to take him off guard.

“If you keep that up I might not let you leave,” he growled, crowding you against the wall. “Ever.”

The combination of his possessive statement and the cold tiles against your back sent a shiver down your spine and made your stomach clench.

“Put me down,” you ordered with a mischievous smirk.

Raising an eyebrow at your expression, he let you slide down his front, setting you onto your feet. You kissed him briefly before starting your descent marked by a trail of kisses. Negan’s breathing sped up considerably once you reached his bellybutton.

Kneeling down in front of him, you licked his abs before following his happy trail down to his pulsing cock.

“You don’t have to do this, I said I’ll show you how nice I can be,” he reminded you hoarsely.

“I know, but I want to.”

“Have at it then, babygirl. Far be it from me to stop you from suckin’ my dick.”

You wrapped your hand around his base and circled his cockhead with your tongue, eliciting a throaty growl as he slid a hand into your hair at the back of your head.

“At least I won’t have to pay extra for this,” he said with a laugh that turned into a moan when you slipped his tip into your mouth and started suckling.

Taking your time, you made sure to get him good and wet with your saliva as you slowly swallowed him. This was much nicer without the weird taste of the condom, you thought as you rubbed your tongue over a thick vein. With one hand you kept pumping the part of his cock that wasn’t yet in your mouth and the other fondled his heavy balls. Negan’s hand kept you from smacking into the wall whenever you drew back, but he didn’t apply any pressure, letting you set your own pace instead. He had his eyes closed and his head rested on his forearm that was braced against the tiles.

Your throat was still sore from his rough treatment last night, so you started a torturously slow rhythm that had him panting audibly as you took as much of him as you could without making yourself gag. From the way his stomach clenched and his hips twitched ever so slightly, you knew he was desperately trying not to take over and ruthlessly fuck your mouth. Letting your teeth graze his sensitive underside, you were not completely surprised when he suddenly fisted your hair and pulled out before grabbing you and hauling you back into his arms.

Negan was breathing raggedly as he hoisted you up once more, leaning his forehead against yours. “Babygirl, unless you want me to fuck you into next week, you’ll give me a sec to cool down here.”

You wiped your mouth and giggled. “Too much, huh?” you taunted, imitating his speech pattern.

He groaned, running his nose up and down your neck a few times, before biting the place where it met your shoulder; exactly where he did last night. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

“Oh yeah?”

He hummed against your ear. Smirking, you reached between your bodies and grabbed his throbbing hardness, aligning him with your dripping entrance.

“Shit,” he said, chuckling. “Impatient, are we? You on the pill?”

“Yes, I am and you did promise to make it up to me,” you murmured and hissed as he gently pushed into you, the stretch reminding you of your soreness, before catching his lips in a kiss.

“That I did.”

Negan was incredibly careful in his thrusts, setting a slow rhythm. It didn’t take long to drive you absolutely insane. You were begging him to go faster before you knew it, but he didn’t comply. Evidently, he was enjoying the way you clung to him, if his continuous low laughter was anything to go by.

“Who’s gonna be the death of whom?” you moaned, digging your heels into his arse in an effort to make him increase his pace.

“Somethin’ you need, doll?”

“Please, Negan,” you sobbed. “Faster!”

“Nuh-uh.”

His pelvis was pressed against yours so tightly that your clit was constantly being stimulated, rapidly propelling you towards an orgasm. Your thighs were already starting to cramp and your back arched. You burrowed your face against his shoulder, but he never faltered in his strokes. When he added a swivelling motion to his thrusts, you lost it. Biting his shoulder, you came painfully hard around him. Throughout your convulsions he somehow managed to keep up his slow, deep pumps, prolonging your climax. Negan groaned and pulled out of you to cum on the inside of your thigh a few minutes later.

Your heart was still racing when you said, “I’m not sure I share your definition of nice.”

He laughed. “You sayin’ you aren’t satisfied?”

“I’m sayin’ it felt more like torture,” you explained, leaning a bit away from him to look into his eyes while combing his hair back from his face with your fingers.

“You started it.”

“I started it?”

“That blowjob set the mood, babygirl.”

“Fair enough.”

“Let’s get cleaned up, huh?”

“Hmmm, you still owe me a pot of coffee.”

* * *

 

After Negan had supplied you with coffee and you’d chatted a bit, you’d figured it was time to do the Walk of Shame. He’d offered to have Dwight or even Simon drive you home, but you’d declined, prompting an argument that made you want to pull your hair out. Coming to a compromise, he’d called you a cab and paid for the fare, leaving you with a kiss that had you good and ready to jump him once more.

You stared out of the window lost in thought for a bit before being pulled out of your reverie by another car angrily honking at your driver. Fishing out your phone for the first time since early last night, you saw that you had seven missed calls and about a dozen texts; all from your friend. As you read through them one by one, a wave of guilt swept over you. Your actual date had apparently contacted her last night to tell her you hadn’t shown up and she’d gotten more worried with every hour that had passed without any reply from you.

Figuring it would be best to just talk to her and explain, you called her.

“You’re alive!” she screeched, her tone stuck somewhere between relief and anger.

“Hi,” you replied lamely. “Yes, I’m alive and well. I’m sorry, I only now looked at my phone just now.”

“Why? Have you spent your night in front of the TV, eating junk food and throwing yourself a pity party?” she asked, sounding truly concerned now.

“Not quite.”

“Then why didn’t you show up to your date?”

“Well, I did actually. Just not the one you’d set me up for as it turns out.”

There was a pause.

“Explain.”

“I did go to that bar with every intention of meeting the guy, but there was a misunderstanding – it’s a long story – I ended up being on a date with someone else. A very gorgeous someone else who I actually spent the night with.”

“What? Are you serious?”

“Very,” you said, laughing to yourself. “He’s gorgeous and ridiculously good in bed and I think I really like him even though he did think I was a hooker until this morning.”

“A hooker?”

“Hmmm. Like I said, it’s a long story.”

“Well, at least you had a fun night,” she said, giggling. “I expect you to tell me all about it over coffee. Soon!”

“Deal.”

“Who is he? Maybe I know him.”

You frowned. “I don’t actually know his last name.”

“Oh. What’s his first name?”

“A weird one.” You chuckled. “Negan.”

You heard her suck in a breath before she replied, stutteringly, “N-Negan?”

“Yeah?”

“Tall, dark, handsome? Owner of that bar you went to?”

“Yes! So you do know him?”

“Oh, girl,” she said, sounding very serious all of a sudden. “You just fucked the boss of the local Mafia.”

You coughed, choking on thin air. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope. Not even a little bit.”

_Mafia?_

“Well, hell.”

**Author's Note:**

> Update (16th Feb 2018): I'm almost finished with the next part of this story. But since I'm not sure yet whether I'll write more after that (I'm pretty sure I will, because I'm having a blast) or how long it'll actually end up being all in all, I'm only gonna post on Tumblr for now and see what happens. Right now, it feels more than a second chapter than another one-shot in that Mafia universe, so I don't know yet whether to make this a story or a series here on AO3.


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